milliways_bar | (no subject)

"Hello, Balthazar," Autor says, starting this conversation backwards, as he seems to do so often. "What do you do back home?"

"Well, I don't have huge cinnamon rolls." The faint note of amusement is back - it's possible he's noted the verbal herding.

"No, those are pretty one of a kind," Autor says, raising a brow. He hails a wait rat and orders tea--this is a tea kind of situation. "You're quite reluctant to talk about yourself, I've noticed."

He drops the observation casually. It's just there, no inflection to mark it as any different from, say, commenting on how he looks tired.

"Whereas you are quite eager to hear my life story." Balthazar replies, giving no quarter. "Even to the point of making apologies you don't entirely mean."

And now he's embarrassed again. He looks away, busying himself with watching the rats, before glancing back. "... Ah," the boy says, with tinted cheeks. "For what it's worth, I did mean the apology."

"At least partially." Balthazar agrees, with another piece of cinnamon roll. "I suppose that's good for partial credit."

Autor squints at him. He scoops up his tea from the wait rat calmly--not desperately, like he feels--and sips it just as calm. "No, I meant it fully. Just because I felt I ought to doesn't mean I can't also feel remorseful."

Edited 2014-10-14 07:49 (UTC)

"No, no it doesn't." Balthazar agrees, his calm not feigned. Of course, he has quite a few more years of practice in the art of dancing around a topic.

"If I ask you any more questions about yourself, will you answer them?" Autor says, sipping his tea.

"That depends, of course." Balthazar raises an eyebrow at the boy again, "Why are you asking?"

"As is no doubt obvious by now, I am curious about other people," Autor answers, inclining his head. "How they live their lives, or travel from place to place in their worlds, or why they choose to do what they do."

"Ah, but to what end? I once met a very charming young priest with an admirable dedication to his work that I had to be very careful not to tell a thing." And this is completely true - the poor priest had been more interested in law than faith, but that only put him in the perfect position to be part of the juggernaut that took over much of Spain. It wasn't the poor boy's fault that someone had seen him taking down a Morganian.

Autor considers this. For some reason, he reasons out that it wouldn't hurt to tell Balthazar things. "I'm a writer. I look to people for inspiration."

"Inspiration for your writing, or...?" Why yes, Balthazar is a suspicious bastard. You live for over a millennium and let's see how trusting you are.

"Yes, of course," Autor says, blinking guilelessly. "What else would I find inspiration for?"

"This is a bar which is open to an unlimited number of worlds, and an unlimited number of times - the possible answers to that question are endless." Balthazar replies blandly.

"They are," Autor admits, sipping his tea. "But as I said, I am looking for inspiration for my writing, just so. Is that an end you'd mind answering questions for?"

"Perhaps - if you will answer your own question first." What? He doesn't feel the need to be the only one talking here.

"So if I ask a question, I have to answer it myself?" Autor says, blinking. "That's..." His knee-jerk reaction is a big ol' hell, no! but he dare not say that aloud. That would give the wrong impression. "That's the most clever way to deal with me that I've ever seen."

"Why? If you only want to hear the stories, might others not have the same aim?" Balthazar asks in return. "What is it I am not allowed to know about you, when you want to know all about me?"

"Why would you want to know about me?" Autor counters, trying not to fidget overly much. "I suspect you're not a writer."

"No, but I am a patron of a very interesting bar - why wouldn't I want to know about my fellow patrons?" Especially the ones who show such an intense interest.

"You know I'll just ask superficial questions. What's your favorite color, and so on," Autor says, folding his arms. "Blue, by the way."

"Purple." Balthazar replies, teasing another piece of roll free. "Why should you settle for the superficial? It is, of course, your choice."

"Why do you think?" Autor says, and nearly bites his tongue as he realizes that's sort of another question, one which he'll have to answer. "Because I'm afraid people might think me crazy. Name one person you'd die to protect."

He laces his fingers together, watching Balthazar. "Sunshine."